Each delicate snowflake that fell masked the chill of the past several months and with every crystal that kissed her cheeks, she felt a sense of renewal, a touch of awakening.
There was a cold current rushing through New York City on the eve of March 20th. The streets felt bitter and there was a deep sorrowful feeling that kept pawing at my heart. Perhaps my sixth sense knew a storm was coming, but the hopeless dreamer in me persevered into the night with a forced morale that I would make the night a memorable one. One thing I know is certain: We cannot control the elements outside of our control.
I tend to dress to match my mood, and on this day my mood was dark. But as the snow fell early the next morning, it provided a renewed sense of tenacity. Just as I always have done, and I always do, I woke up and put one foot in front of the other. But it wasn’t until the snow fell that I identified it’s symbolism. I used to truly hate snow. But on this day, I learned to love it.
Photos by Alexandra Gibbs